A narrow footway paved with cobble-stones followed the irregular outlines of the street, and made Hampstead, like other places of pilgrimage, a place of penance also for the pilgrims who chose that narrow way. The shops then were dusky little places, with not much choice of goods; and what there were, were exhibited with little taste in the arrangement of them. What did it signify? Everyone knew of what his neighbours’ stock consisted, and consequently where to get what he wanted. There was no hurry in those days, and plenty of time for everything. Very few people except visitors were to be seen about, and there was a delightful freedom from the sounds of vehicles—a stillness in the uphill street that suggested somnolence. The little windows seemed to blink at the sunshine like the half-shut eyes of the sleek tabby I used to see there taking her afternoon nap amongst the soft goods in one of them. There was another peculiarity in many of the Hampstead shops: the earth had so accumulated outside the houses that the difference in the level of the street with the floor had to be taken into consideration when entering them, otherwise the unaccustomed customer was very likely to make a more precipitate than graceful entry. This state of things continued even as late as 1895, at the old post-office and elsewhere. Such things as these only proved the antiquity of the delightful suburb, and its unlikeness to other places. In the old sunny days South End lay, a picturesque little hamlet of red-roofed houses, embosomed in green trees—an integral part of the parish of St. John, but unenfolded in it—a sort of Hagar’s child, outside Hampstead. I am told that part of South End still remains in South End Road, close to Hampstead Heath Station, and that South End Green—with a few houses that have not been converted to shops, with their palings and gardens, in a very dilapidated condition—also exists. The Green has on it a fountain, erected in 1880 by a lady resident (Miss Crump) to the memory of a relative. It stands on a piece of greensward, surrounded by iron railings, nearly opposite her house, and no doubt answers a very useful purpose, for South End Green is now the terminus of the tramcars, which in summer bring many thirsty children and travellers to Hampstead.